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Gabriel turned me to face him, stroking my hair. “I met Jeanine on one of my first visits to Paris. Her family had old money, very old. Her parents died when she was young, leaving her to be raised by a criminally indulgent grandmother. Jeanine’s mother had been prone to ‘spells’ during which her grandmother attended to her every need. So Jeanine learned early on that being weak and sickly was the fastest way to get attention. Batteries of doctors, nurses, and maids catered to her every whim around the clock. And yet they could never find exactly what was ailing her. Her symptoms shifted like the sands, leaving her grandmother frantic that she would lose another beloved girl. Jeanine was never forced to study subjects she found boring, never forced to meet family or social obligations she found unappealing, never made to do anything that didn’t suit her down to her stamping little foot. The end result was a girl with a woefully limited education, little empathy, and no apparent conscience.
“She spent so much time pretending to be ill that she convinced herself she was. The whole of Paris society spoke in quiet admiration of this ‘pale rose’ who only braved the trials of public appearances every so often for the opera or an important party. She was beautiful. Mahogany hair, always curled into the latest fashions. Bottomless eyes the color of bluebells. Her skin was so—”
“I get it. She made tuberculosis hot,” I said crossly. “On with the story.”
In a slightly less admiring voice, Gabriel assured me, “I found her to be manipulative, spoiled, and not nearly as wan or silly as she wanted us to believe. She was what you would have quite freely called a pain in the ass. But she was also very clever. Most of her ‘incapacitation’ was spent reading.”
“I thought you said she didn’t study.”
“Oh, she read what suited her. Romance novels, Gothic horror. Unfortunately, some of her library included Gothic romance tales, Varney the Vampire and Carmilla. ”
“Those are pretty hard-core books for the time,” I commented. “Surely, well-bred and invalid young ladies did not read lurid lesbian vampire fantasies.” Gabriel arched an eyebrow at me. “Not that I’ve read them … Moving on.”
“As I said, her grandmother was indulgent. She would go to any lengths to lift poor Jeanine’s spirits, including discreetly procuring naughty books. Jeanine recognized what I was right away. She approached me, throwing herself in my path wherever I went, the ballet, parties, even a late-night card game at a friend’s home. It was becoming a joke among my friends. Her grandmother encouraged the infatuation, because she seemed to think that whatever got Jeanine out of bed and into the world was a good thing. One night, Jeanine cornered me at a ball and told me she knew my secret, but not to worry, she wouldn’t tell a soul. All I had to do in return was to make her what I was.”
“She wanted to be turned?”
Gabriel muttered, “For someone who spent so much time on her deathbed, she was terrified of death. The idea of becoming old and not having the choice of being confined and ill was horrible to her. She thought by becoming a vampire, she would finally be free from illness, stronger, able to get out from under the control of her grandmother, whom she began resenting long before. I refused, told her she was mistaken. I even used my burgeoning powers to wipe all thoughts or memories she had pertaining to my being a vampire. But her obsession ran deeper than my reach. Within a few weeks, she was back again and more determined. She was everywhere. I switched hotels endlessly to dodge her. She excelled at knowing my schedule before I did. Everywhere I went, there was a note from her, cajoling, wheedling, promising me her undying devotion, endless love, and companionship.”
“That sounds vaguely familiar,” I said dryly.
He sighed. “Finally, she found the hotel where I was staying. I came home one morning to find her on my bed.”
“Slut.”
“Fully clothed with both wrists slashed,” he added.
“Ew.”
“She was on the brink of death. She had just enough breath to whisper, ‘Help me, please.’ I knew it was wrong—”
“But, being unable to pass up a damsel in distress—which is a bit of a pattern with you, by the way—you intervened,” I said, cupping his chin in my hands.
“Yes. I felt it was my fault she had done this. I hadn’t been forceful enough in dissuading her. I could have done more. There was no blood left to take from her, but I gave her my own. Afterward, I felt used, angry, helpless. I’d panicked and turned someone who was going to be an undead terror. I was ashamed of what I’d done. I knew what sort of evil she would be capable of, and yet I still couldn’t bring myself to destroy her, to keep her from rising and walking the earth.
“I slept—on the floor of the hotel room—and when I rose that night, I took her to the home of a friend, a fellow vampire. A woman, Violette, who was three hundred forty years old at the time and less likely to be manipulated by Jeanine. I hoped that when she arose, Violette would prove to be a mentor, a stabilizing influence. By that time, I’d booked passage to China.”
“Dramatic,” I noted.
“Necessary,” Gabriel countered. “Jeanine is a prime example of a vampire who changed not at all after she was turned. She’s just as neurotic and self-absorbed now as she was then. She’s the only hypochondriac vampire I’ve ever met. She travels with a humidifier, for God’s sake. She’s so convinced that every place she goes will be her ‘final resting place’ that she carries all of her possessions with her in a moving van.”
I snickered, but he continued, “And when vampirism didn’t change the way she looked at herself, the way she felt, she blamed me. She believes she’s a lesser vampire. She said that I didn’t turn her properly. She believes she’s still weak and sickly, so, obviously, she didn’t get enough of my blood. She wants me to try to turn her again .”
“Is that even possible?” I asked.
“Once your transformation is complete, that’s the way you’ll remain for the rest of your existence. The point is that I did turn Jeanine completely. I gave her more than enough of my blood. She refuses to believe me. I’ve tried to talk some sense into her, to teach her restraint, but when she doesn’t get what she wants, her tantrums turn out to be massacres. She became convinced that the only ‘cure’ for her condition was the blood of those who had lived in high altitudes, so she drained every nun in a convent in Tibet. She’s butchered hospitals’ worth of doctors because they can’t find any way to help her.”
“She’s spent almost one hundred years trying to track me down, doing what she can to isolate me, ruin my friendships, my relationships with women. She’ll become dormant for a few years, while she ‘recuperates’ at a mineral spring or a monastery or some other supposedly curative location. And then she’ll get restless and start up again. When it became clear that she was beyond my help, my focus became keeping her away from the people, the places I cared about. That’s the reason I’ve spent so much time bouncing between the Hollow and, well, the rest of the world for the last century. She says I owe her, that I made her, and now I’m responsible for what she’s become. And she’s right. She’s my creation. The blood of every person she’s ever killed is on my hands.”
Gabriel pressed his face against my shoulder, cringing as if he expected me to start screaming and hitting him. I waited a beat before saying, “So, really, I’m not the craziest girl you’ve ever dated. That’s a relief.”
“Your grasp of the weight of this situation is amazing,” he retorted.
I shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
“So … you’re not angry?” he asked.
“Of course, I’m angry!” I exclaimed. “I’m freaking furious with you right now. If I was up to full strength, I would kick your ass from here to Sunday. I can’t believe that this is what you kept from me all these months. I thought you cheated on me! You let me suffer and mope and go months without seeing you because of some issue with a bratty childe? You and your stupid overactive conscience! From now on, you are going to gauge the severity of your actions by answering the question, ‘Would Dick think this was a good idea?’ and if the answer is no, that’s when you know you’ve done something really, really wrong. Either way, just tell me about it so we avoid these dramatics. If you had told me about this months ago, I would have helped you track her down and lock her in some vampire nut ward.”
